The Silver Prince
by Leah Leu
Summary: Walking through the gates of Menegorth, for the first time I imagined raining applause as Beren and I entered triumphant with the silmaril out for all to see. That dream is dead. My footfalls are silent as they echo around. I wasn't expecting to walk through alone and secretly with child.
1. Prologue

Lúthien

When I left Menegroth I knew I was going to return triumphant. With my head held high, Beren at my side holding my hand, and in his other, the silmaril. I wanted to walk up to the throne and look into my fathers wide eyes, to prove that Beren and I were meant to be. His attempt to send Beren to his death, for my bride price would not be the end of us. I knew we would succeed, we had to, after all, I did love him.

Love wasn't enough. Love wasn't strong enough, Love could not defeat the enemy. Although we managed to wound him, it still wasn't enough.

I played right into my fathers trap it seems. He wanted Beren dead. He got his wish.

My stomach knotted, and the taste of nausea flooded my mouth. I feel like I'm going to be sick.

I take a moment to compose myself before the doors open to the throne room. Moving the saliva in my mouth and forcing myself to swallow so that nothing could come up. My hand went to my stomach, as I pretend to brush off dirt on my travel dress. _Just a little longer._

I could feel the eyes of the guards on me. No doubt they had a lot of questions just like everyone else.

"Are you ready my lady?"

I tilted my head slightly indicated he can open the doors. The grand oak doors swung open as my name was announced.

A hush fell over the people in the throne room. The only sound was my boots on the floor. I could feel everyone's stare as my skin tingled with so many pairs on me. I puffed out my chest, with my shoulders rolled back and head held high.

I have to show that returning empty handed, and without Beren didn't bother me. I have to show that I am indifferent, if I broke now, then my father had truly won, and I do not want to give him the satisfaction of celebrating the loss of someone I cared about.

I'm a few feet away, my fathers eyes are soft, yet his mouth shows pride in the slight turn of his lips. My mother, sits straight and tall, her eyes sharp as ever as they pierce through me. As I look into her eyes for a brief moment, I feel more vulnerable than the random of pairs of eyes on my back. Already I feel as though my secrets are exposed, mother doesn't miss anything.

As I step closer, my father stands his arms already open wide for me to walk into, which I calmly do. His big arms squeeze me, as my head lies on his chest. "I have missed you daughter," he whispers in my ear.

He pulls me back, and I fight to smile at him, "I missed you as well father." His eyes light up as he is happy with my response. There is no talk of Beren, no doubt my father already received the news.

My father gently guides me with his hand to my mother who is standing next to him. I embrace her as my father makes his announcement.

"My daughter is home and well. Let us celebrate her return." My father was met with applause and cheers.

Celebrate? At a time like this? I bite my lip to keep them from trembling. I have traveled far, and am weary, celebrating is the last thing on my mind.

The people cheer. As if it was planned servants with trays of wine enter the room, and start to hand out glasses of the red liquid. I watch silently, stilling myself to not shake my head in dismay. Was no one going to talk about how brave Beren was for fighting the impossible?

My mothers whose arms is around my shoulders gives them a comforting rub. I glace at her eyes, and there is nothing but sympathy and comfort. She gives me a little smile, and I try to return it, but it is gone too soon. I lean my head on her shoulder wishing I was somewhere else.

My father turns back to us, and wraps his one long arm across my mother as he guides us out of the throne, for which I am grateful for.

My father leads us to our family room, where my extended family gathers. I am sure they will be here soon. I pick the end of the couch and plop down pulling one of the pillows across my middle.

"There is so much we need to catch up on," my father says as he pours three glasses of his personal wine.

"Let her rest first." My voice is mother's light and stern, as she gives a look at my father as she accepts her cup.

My father sits down after I wave my wine away.

"Of course, I am just anxious to know the details." My father takes a sip and leans back on the couch crossing his feet. "I'm sure Finrod will have no trouble if I asked him, but his letters have been vague as of late." My father settled down in his chair before he spoke again, "So Lúthien—"

"Lúthien you're back!" a small elfling ran into my lap. Like a ray of sunlight washing away the darkness, and for a moment I forget about father's prying and Beren's loss.

"Thranduil, my little darling," I wrap my arms around him giving him a much needed squeeze. When we release I see his big bright smile and his sweet blue eyes. "Look at you. I think you've grown more since the last time I saw you." I pat down Thranduil's golden hair as he puffs his chest out.

"Of course I grew. I'm almost as tall as Nimloth."

"You wish, you barley reach my knee's still" I turn my gaze from Thranduil to a tall graceful figure with long white hair. She pours herself a glass of my fathers wine and takes a sip.

"It's really good to see you again Lúthien." She lifts her glass a little as a toast and sits down next to me.

"It's good to see you too Nimloth." She takes another sip of her glass. I turn my gaze back to the entrance where I see my uncle, aunt, their children, and my other cousins and their spouses. My smile starts to grow as I look at all the familiar faces, "its good to see everyone."

With the wine served, and a handful of relative sharing their relief at my return, everyone was at their respective places around our casual family room. Light chatter filtered through the room, I listened intently to my relatives that sat near me who would eventually rotate to another spot. Nimloth and Thranduil were the only two who sat on the floor close to me with their playful banter.

Thranduil and Nimloth were the youngest so far in the family, despite their 80 year age gap, they get along like perfect siblings instead of cousins. Thranduil speaks of his exploration in the woods and Nimloth speaks about her time working with the healers. Its surprising to hear how much they have grown, and how time as passed; strange how a single year can change so much. Something stirred inside me, and my mind went back to all those months ago.

Of course much as changed in a year. This time last year I was imagining myself marrying Beren, and now… I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to get the thoughts of the past out. I have endured much pain. Pain I never felt before. I lost the one person I loved.

I run through many scenarios in my head of things I could have done differently. I love my parents, and I loved Beren. I was brave enough to run away from home to help him get the silmaril. So why not run away with Beren the moment my father refused our union. I could have left, and never came back, but I didn't, the truth is… I felt my teeth grind together. The truth is I'm just a co— I slapped my hand on the arm chair. I cant even bring myself to say it.

A bout of nausea hit my stomach. I leaned my head to the side twirling the wine I reluctantly accepted from my cousin Oropher. He insisted I participate in the celebrations since I am the elf of the hour. With all of his attempts to cheer me up I unfortunately wasn't in the celebrating mood. The wine didn't help matters. It is nowhere near my face, and yet the sharp pungent smell has travelled to my nose down my throat to my insides that churn in protest.

The nausea has been particularly bad today. Maybe it's just my nerves of being back home after being gone for a long time.

I feel the fatigue wash over me. My limbs have already sagged from sitting here. I feel a heaviness on my eyes as I fight the sweet taste of sleep. Sighing to myself I close my eyes rub my free had with my temple.

"Is everything well Lúthien?" I open my eyes to see my aunt sitting across from me. Her smile is gentle and her brown eyes shine with comfort.

She gets up from her spot and sits next to me, she gives me a comforting smile. I attempt to smile back, but I didn't feel like it was genuine.

"You must be tired, maybe you should rest." I tear my gaze from her and look around everyone was in their own groups talking having their own conversation. Even Nimloth and Thranduil have left my side.

"I don't think anyone will miss you, I'll make sure no one comes after you." My aunt give me a wink, and I feel my lips slightly turn up. I'm grateful for the escape.

Before I get up to leave, my eyes are drawn to my mother sitting a few distance from me. She is sitting with Celeborn and his wife. Galadriel is facing my mother, her lips moving, despite my mother not looking in her direction.

I feel my mothers piercing and familiar gaze. I could feel her mind gently probing my mine. I feel her concern and comfort. I don't bother giving her a reply, I just dip my head in farewell and silently stroll to the door to leave.

It isn't far to my rooms. Once I get in I kick off my shoes, and walk toward my bed, lying flat on my back.

I close my eyes and feel my weight sink into my bed as exhaustion finally takes over. I revel in the quiet and peace of my room. Unconsciously I stretch out my arm reaching for someone I know isn't there. I feel my eyes start to sting as tears gather at the end of my eyes.

My life with Beren is over, but that doesn't mean my life has to be over. I open my eyes feeling a strange mix of strength coming back to my body. Perhaps I didn't go about it the right way, but there is nothing that I regret. I place my hand on my stomach, feeling the tiny life pulse with energy. I smile at the feeling of this new life. After all if I hadn't made certain decisions I wouldn't have _you._ I slowly stroke my stomach.

"I promise I'm going to take good care of you, and maybe one day you can meet your father." I curl to one side whispering into the pillow as if my child's ear was right there.

"I'll tell you everything about him; his family and his great deeds, even his language. Others may not think well of him, but it is my wish that you see your father the way I see him."

I reach down to my pocket and brought out silk rich red cloth. I carefully unwrap the silk and my eyes are blinded by the brilliant light the jewel gives off. I feel my eyes shine with tears as I think about my husband. One day we will see each other again, then I can explain everything, I promise. I kiss the jewel, imaging my husbands face to be there. I tuck the silmaril back into the cloth and pressed it to my abdomen. The strong light pulsed with life just as strong as the child growing within me.

For the first time since I arrived at Menegorth I finally feel at home.


	2. Luthien

Lúthien

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 **A/N:** Hello! Thank you for those that have read and reviewed, I really appreciate it!

I just wanted to say that the first two chapters are like a prologue. The third will have a different pov and style that future chapters will carry on. For Lúthien's side of the story, there is more to write about in this AU, but that will hopefully be explored in another fanfic.

I'm not sure when I will upload again so I will upload two chapters for now so please enjoy!

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I was told I slept for three days.

Sitting up in my bed now, it hardly feels like I slept at all, but I am grateful to be awake at least. In the quiet room, I feel my eyes lids start to slowly come together, until a soft noise made my closing eyes flutter open. I looked at the little bundle in my arms. Somewhere inside me energy pulsed through my body, and I bring the little bundle higher to place a kiss on his creamy soft skin.

His eyes were closed shut and he fussed for a little before he became quiet again. I smoothed down his soft thick silver hair, he is a beautiful baby, and I felt an incredible amount of pure love and joy looking at him.

A gentle knock turned my attention to the door as it opened slightly. I was met with a familiar bright face. "I hope you don't mind company, everyone is very eager — Thranduil!"

Before my uncle finished speaking Thranduil dashed under his legs, to my side of the bed. I smiled at his eagerness as he bounced on his toes to take a peek at his new cousin.

" Thranduil! Remember what you were told," Nimloth strode in behind Thranduil. Thranduil looked down pretending to be ashamed, but the spark in his blue eyes told an entirely different story.

"I'm excited that I will finally have a boy to play with." He looked up at Nimoth with a face that could melt any ones stern heart. He was always good about avoiding any reprimanding, with that sweet innocent face. Nimloth turned to me with a sad playful eyes, and crossed arms, "I was praying for a girl" she mumbled.

She turned her eyes to the baby and kneeled over by son's head. "Ah, but he is a beauty." She placed a kissed on his hair and stood up once more.

"Can I hold him?" Thranduil pleaded. I nodded and with my uncle's help Thranduil sat on the bed as my son was gently placed on his lap. Thranduil supported his head, with my uncle's hand holding Thranduil's as he marveled at him just the same. Nimloth cooed at the child as well and with most of my company preoccupied with the baby I laid back and inhaled the sight before me.

It has been too long since I last saw my family this happy. Since I announced I was expecting, not everyone was happy for me. I knew they would be shocked, but I wasn't expecting some of them to brushoff me. The big mystery surrounding my surprise pregnancy was the identity of my husband.

According to some I had too many suitors, and I spent too much alone time with them. My father attempted to track my steps. Focusing mostly on Nargothrond, the people there, who I was with, and how long I was there.

My father wasn't thrilled at the thought of his first grandchild. He refused to speak to me, or even look at me. The first time we spoke was at least six days ago. His biggest fear is that I married his enemy.

According to my father, any potential suitor is an enemy. He would have never allowed me to marry on my own accord.

Last we spoke, I got an earful of how I am loose in my morals, that I'm no long a proper princess; just damaged goods. At the time I didn't have the energy to stop his rant. Through the whole pregnancy I have been drained physically and mentally. Luckily my uncle came in just in time to stop his rant and take me away.

Strange, it feels like it's been ages instead of a few days…

Suddenly a knock at the door brought me back to the present. I opened my eyes and sat upright as the light chatter stopped as all eyes faced the door.

A familiar tall figure peeked his head in, his usual stern face was slack as his eyes roamed over the room. The door fully opened, and I saw my mother enter with her bright smile lighting up the room.

My mother didn't look to me, but to my uncle. There was some unspoken communication between them. I saw my uncle nod gravely. It was at that moment that my uncle called the visit to an end.

Thranduil whined, but was compliant kissing the baby farewell as he led away by Nimloth, my aunt followed, and then it was only my uncle. He placed my baby in my arms and kissed my forehead before heading out the door where my father still stood.

I heard my mother speaking to me, but I felt my body grow stiff, wondering what will happen between my father and uncle. Both of their faces were hard and stern as they stared head to head. My father being the tallest, it would be almost comical that someone shorter was attempting to stare him down; but no one would dare glare at the king.

Both jaws were tight I could see one corner of my father's lip curl in a snarl as my uncle stood in front of my father longer than what would be considered polite. My fathers eyes flashed red, as my uncle shoved my father out of the way. My father remained silent, but continued to look over his shoulder even when my uncle was long out of the door.

I felt gentle hands comb through my hair, and I turned to my mother, whose face I couldn't read at the moment. She had a small smile on her face, as she brushed my hair away from my face, as if she were brushing away my troubled thoughts.

My father finally walked in and stood on the left side of the bed with my mother. He stood until my mother waved for him to pull up a chair and to sit next to her. His movements were slow, and calculating and he sat down like he was very unsure of himself.

I couldn't look at him, not after what happened last time.

I then turned my attention to my baby, pulling him close to me. It was silent, it felt like time stopped, as if the world was holding its breath for this exact moment to happen.

"Congratulations" came my father's deep rumble. I tilted my head a little acknowledging his words. I still did not want to look at him.

"Boy or girl?"

"Boy" I immediately replied, but he already knew it was a boy. I'm sure he would have received news sometime after my son was born.

More silence passed between us, I counted each heart beat that echoed in my ears.

"How is he?" At this question I looked up at him. I wanted to see if he was genuinely asking the wellbeing of my child or simply speaking because he was obligated to.

I felt the words stick to my throat before I finally managed, "He's is a very good baby. He's quiet. He eats well. He's perfect." My father gives a slight nod and a subtle smile.

.

A heart beat passes, I have a strange idea come into my mind. "Would you like to hold him?"

My voice, I hope, is not full of uncertainty, after all, this is his grandchild. Despite us being on bad terms my son still has a right to know his grandfather.

"Do you want me to hold him?" my father speaks with uncertainty as well. There is a slight quiver in his voice.

I take a brief look at my son, and then my father feeling a surge of confidence course through me. "I want you, to want to hold him." I say this because its true, I want my father to love my son, I want to have our relationship back as well.

My father extends his arms waiting for my son to be placed in them. Beaming, I carefully placed my son in my father's more experience parent hands holding him as if my son was his own.

My father gives him a few bounces as my son whines as he is placed in unfamiliar arms.

"Hush little one, you are fine," he crooned changing positions so that my son's head rest on the palm of his hand and the rest of his body is supported by my father's arm.

"Look at you, my dear sweet little one," my father crooned at my child. My father's face is instantly illuminated. His smile is wide and his eyes are bright as he leans forward and whispers to my baby. For once I felt incredibly warm, knowing my father finally approves. I could feel the tears threatening to spill listening to my father love on my son.

"He's beautiful, just like you were as an infant," I looked at my father as his eyes shined with a trail of a lone tear escaping.

He then passed my son to my mother, as my father looked at me, with such vulnerability, that I would not take to be my father.

"Lúthien, about what I said. I was wrong,"

"Please, father you don't have to," He held up his hand for me to stop.

"Yes, I do," feeling odd, I looked away. It was strange to hear my father apologize, I can't remember a time he ever apologized.

"You are my daughter, Lúthien," he spoke again, this time I felt something warm press into my hand as my father held it. I looked at our hands, and then finally back at him.

"I should never have uttered those words. Can you ever forgive me?"

He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it as a few more tears fell down his cheek.

"There's nothing to forgive." He didn't have to say it. I already knew how he felt looking at him holding my son. That act alone let me know that he was sorry.

He squeezed my hand tighter wanting me to say it. I glanced at his face, feeling my lips turn in a small smile. "I forgive you father."

My father stood from his seat and sat on the bed as he engulfed me in a hug, the awkward tension finally going away.

For the first time in seven months, it felt as if we were a family again.

I lost track of time as my eyes begin to grow heavy, and I felt myself start to slowly nod off.

"We should go," my mother whispered, "you still need your rest." I felt her lips against my temple as she rose from her chair.

"Do you want me to take him?" My mother held her arms out waiting for my son to be placed in them.

My sleepy eyes, dropped to the perfect little being nestled in my arms.

I couldn't help as a small smile lit my face.

"No, I want to hold him a little longer."

My mother gave me a knowing smile. She gently moved a piece of hair behind my ear, and my father kissed my forehead as well.

They closed the door gently behind them, and finally it was just me and my son. He moved his arms as he stirred in his sleep, and I felt a sudden rush of joy run through me.

My fingers ran all over his face, touching his precious forehead, to his soft lips. My hand then trailed to his soft silver hair.

He is perfect.

As his eyes opened he seemed to blink the bleariness out of his gorgeous eyes, as I imagined them focusing on me.

"Hi," I breathed out the word. He moved again in my arms, as a little whine of protest came from his lips. He wasn't at all satisfied being awake at the moment.

I gently shushed him, and bounced my arms a little too quiet him down.

I placed his head a little higher as it rested against my chest, and stared at his face.

It was then that I realized that, I have yet to pick a name for him.

I wish his father were here to choose his name. Thinking about my husband, I felt my lips quiver and tears gather at the end of my eyes. I bit my lower lips to still them, and blinked several times to erase them. I shouldn't be sad, this is supposed to be a joyous day. I am sorry that he is not here, but that means, I will have to love him for the both of us.

His name will have to reflect myself and my husband. His name will have to be noble, because I know that there will be others who will disapprove of my child existence. His name will have to show that he is a true prince that will bring fortune and not destruction.

I am fortunate that I have come so far, despite going through many heart breaks, I never thought I would be here. Holding my son close to me, he is a blessing in disguise and that is who he will be to my people and his father's people.

"My little blessing, my sweet Almárean,"


	3. Almarean

Almárean

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 **A/N:** There is about a 20 year time skip since the last chapter.

Here is where the story finally begins. Enjoy!

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Tears gathered in Almárean eyes as he felt his short legs run away from his hiding spot with Nimloth. He blinked his eyes furiously to clear his vision. He felt shame flood his mind. He didn't want to run since it was his fault that they were caught.

He didn't like being separated from Nimloth, but she instructed him to run and so he did.

His legs were starting to ache as each stepped pounded on the ground. He wasn't sure where he was going. He heard shouts from and shrieks from various elves down various halls. He prayed to Elbereth that his mother was alright wherever she was.

As he ran down the long hallway he was lucky that he hadn't ran into the enemy yet. Almárean hoped that his soldiers ran through and cleared the halls and hopefully moved on to the rest of the palace to protect the elves that didn't get a warning of the attack.

His legs burned from running, his head beat a million miles an hour and spots started to fill his vision. He had to take a second to catch his breath, if not then he may not make it to find help. He slowed his steps puffing out the rest of air in his body. He leaned against the closest wall to keep himself balanced. His legs pulsed along with his head. His mind urged him to keep going, no matter how tired he was feeling. Laboriously he took a step at a time dragging his hand along the wall. Almárean kept his eyes closed as he concentrated on regaining his breath.

As he walked along the wall, an unfamiliar stench a started to fill his nose. It was a heavy metallic smell that was unfamiliar to Almárean. His mind and instincts flashed warnings signs all of them telling him that he should avoid this area, but he couldn't go back. Not after coming this far, he had to keep going forward.

As he continued running his hand on the wall, his foot struck an object, and Almarean stumbled and fell. When he opened his eyes he stared at an odd reflection of himself. It looked like he stumbled upon a pile of hand polished steel. The steel felt cool under his warm pulsing hands.

His nose told him that he finally found the stench that he smelled awhile back.  
He pulled himself up with the help of the wall to fully examine his surroundings. Before he could look he felt a cold and wet _somehting_ on his hand. He pulled it away from the wall to examine it.

He looked down to see his hand covered in red paint. He thought this was odd since he didn't remember any news of the walls being painted earlier this week. He brought his hand closer and that was when a whiff of metal filled his nostrils. He let out a yelp as he realized it was blood on his hands. Looking at the wall blood was spattered behind the now dead elf he stumbled upon. He screamed as his feet back paddled away. His eyes looked on the horror, of the slumped over mystery elf with the empty eyes staring out into nothing.

He backed away walking to the opposite side of the wall before bumping into something else. He turned to find another dead elf. Almárean looked up and scanned the rest of the hall. Weapons, and bodies and even some limbs littered the different sides of the hall. Almárean noticed that these elves were not of Doriath. He didn't want to meet the one who did this to the soldiers.

He shook his head vigorously and ran straight down the hall. He had to focus he had to find someone to help Nimloth.

Fear clouded his mind, forget Nimloth, he had to get away from this endless nightmare. Almárean blindly ran passing the carnage, hopefully leaving it all behind.

Almárean got to the end of the hall, turned the corner and bumped into a solid figure. Almárean didn't fall backwards but he looked up until his chin was high in the air. Grey hair was the first feature he found, then he caught sight of stern blue eyes. His grandfather, thank Elbereth.

"Grandfather!" Almárean flung himself at the tall elf again and wrapped his arms around him.

"Where did you come from" Thingols voice was hard and lacked any comfort that Almárean wished he had at this moment.

Pushing away his disappointment at the lack of affection., Almárean spoke, "I was in the closet with mother, and Nimloth, but mother left and Nimloth and I… We were separated." He bowed his head as he spoke the last part, he didn't want to tell his grandfather that it was his fault that he separated from Nimloth. Almárean waited for any reaction from his grandfather. When none came, he spoke again.

"What's happening," Almárean looked back up after his grandfather.

Thingol didn't give an answer he looked in the opposite direction. Almárean looked around himself wondering what Thingol was waiting for. Thingols face was turned away from Almárean. His gaze wondered down his tall frame stopping at his right hand. His right hand held a large thin blade, Almárean never saw a sword like it before. It was a beautiful blade that shined like a white icicle. Almárean sucked in a breath and took a few steps back noticing the rust color running down the blade.

Feeling insecure he brought out the small wooden box from his arm. He almost forgot that he was carrying it when he fled the closet.

He placed the box against his chest, imagining his mother was right there in that moment giving him comfort. For a moment he felt warm and safe, but then suddenly he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He looked up to see Thingol glaring down at him.

"What is that?" Thingol's voice was cold as the blade he carried, his eyes pierced though Almárean and he found that he was at a loss for words.

"I um…. nothing" He stumbled.

"Give it to me", Thingol ordered.

Almárean felt himself start to shake. His arms trembled but he kept the box close to his chest. He knew he wasn't well liked by his grandfather, but he never feared him, until now.

"Mother told me to keep it safe," He finally managed say. He hated how small and childlike his voice was.

"I will keep it safe. Now give it to me." Thingol kneeled until he was mere inches from his face. There was something strange and crazed in his eyes and Almárean didn't like it. Tears gathered in his eyes and he fought with ever fiber in his being to not turn away and run.

"Here! Over here!" Almárean tore his gaze from Thingol to behind him. A figure emerged from the other side of the hall. He was tall and dark haired, with gold shining armor. There was a circlet across his brow with a ruby shining in the middle. Behind him were three soldiers in silver with a pointed star on their breast.

"Go to my brother and tell him to come here. I will deal with him myself."

He ordered the three around him to leave as he walked to Thingol and Almárean. His strides were long and full of authority, He carried his head high as if he was striding down his halls and Thingol and Almárean were the intruders.

Thingol stood tall and stared down the Princely figure as he stopped a few feet between the two.

"I have been around this aura enough to now I am in the presence of my father's silmaril." He stated. His voice was deep and eloquent and yet there was an edge of danger.

"The silmaril is not yours for the taking. You lost the right to own it." Thingol replied his voice full of authority.

"How dare you," The figure seethed. The figure began to close the distance. "My father made that silmaril and it was wrongfully taken. It is only right I take back our family jewel."

"It is no longer yours, you do not deserve to have it." Thingol spoke as he took a step closer as well challenging the new elf.

"Hah," the fugire barked. "Just because it is in your possession does not mean you automatically have a right to it. The silmaril will always belong to Curufinwë Fëanáro and his sons!" The figure drew his sword and pointed it at Thingol. Almárean could see his grandfather's lips curl in a snarl as the figure spoke the forbidden language.

"This is your final warning. Give me the silmaril or I will end you."

Without hesitation Thingol turned to Almárean and snatched the box out of his hands. Almárean yelped in surprise as his arm gave a tight tug when Thingol grasped the box.

"Here it is. Come and take it." Thingol gave his haughty reply as he held the box in the air. The figure pulled back when Thingol lunged. The figures sword easily deflecting the attack. They spun in circles each grunting and shouting when one bested the other. The box in Thingols hand was always kept at a safe distance so that the other elf was unable to reach it. Even with one hand, Thingol managed to defend himself and attack his opponent.

Almárean watched in silent horror unable to move.

The sound of the box hitting the ground and skidding away broke Almárean from his trace. Thingol released a frustrated growl as the box slid past Almárean.

There was a pause as all three pairs of eyes looked at the box, just a foot away. Thingol threw his opponent back with all his might as he started to run toward it. Thingol didn't get far as he landed hard on the ground. He underestimated the figures strength as he grabbed on to Thingol's legs and refused to let go. Both of them struggled on the floor each trying to get the upper hand.

Almárean looking at the struggled blinked before turning away and running to get to get his box back. It only took a few steps for Almárean to grab the box. He turned briefly to check that his grandfather and the mystery figure were still fighting. They were set in their match, good then they wouldn't notice. Gathering the box to his chest he began to run in the opposite direction.

"Boy!" The figures voice made his ears tingle. "That is mine!" Almárean stopped and turned. He wasn't sure why. Something in his voice, sadness mixed with insanity compelled him to listen to the figure. He started to think that returning the jewel to the original owner wouldn't be so bad.

"Almárean No!" his grandfather shouted, but was quickly cut off when the figures elbow came in contact with his head.

The figure pushed Thingol away and walked toward Almárean. Almárean's eyes started to widen, he knew he had to run, but his feet where frozen. If he did run, where would he go to? He could run back into more of the figures soldiers and be outnumbered. Or he could take the chance of his short size and run past to go to his grandfather.

Clutching the box to him gave him strength, he darted away from the incoming elf and ran swiftly ran past him to his grandfather still on the floor.

He was close, so close, until he felt a tug at the back of his shirt. In a desperate attempt, Almárean threw the box to his grandfather who was only a few meters away. The box skid to a stop in front of the kneeling king. Thingol's eyes lingered on the box in front of him, and back at Almárean.

Almárean had a triumphant smile, he knew the box would be safer with his grandfather than the mystery elf.

Almárean's smile soon faded when something sharp and cold was placed under his chin. He went still knowing exactly what was at his throat, a cool blade sent a shiver down his spine. He lifted his head higher to try and relieve some of the pressure, but with little luck.

"Give me the silmaril, or I will slice his throat."

Thingol stared and looked at Almárean and then to the one behind him holding the blade.

"I'm not jesting. I will slice his throat." just to make a point the elf pressed his blade further into Almárean throat. Almárean tensed and wrapped his arm around the elf to stop him from going further. Almárean was no fool, he could feel how large and strong his captors arms were compared to his thin untrained arms.

Thingol still said nothing but only stared.

"Grand…father, Almárean rasped, he called out to him in hopes of getting his grandfather to say something.

"This is your grandson?" The voice was surprised. "You would sacrifice your grandsons life for a jewel that isn't yours." The elf pondered on Thingol's actions.

Almárean did not miss the hesitation in his captors voice. He sounded as if the elf was waking up from a dream, and would regret his actions of harming Almárean. The elf eased the blade off of Almáreans throat which was just enough to let him swallow without the fear of the blade cutting him.

There was still no answer from Thingol, the air was full of tension as they both waited for the king to give a reaction.

After nothing but silence, the figure grew angry at the kings silence and tightened his grip on Almárean once again and pressed the blade to his throat once more. It was much closer than last time. So close that Almárean could feel a thin piece break through his skin. Almárean squeezed his eyes shut unable to open his mouth and scream in fear of getting cut. If he wasn't going to die with his throat slashed, than he would die of suffocation. Tears started to gather at the corner of his eyes.

"This is your last warning," again no response.

Why not get it over with, Almárean thought. He could feel his face getting warm as his temples pulsed. Was this elf, concerned for his welfare, or was he testing his grandfather to see if he would give up the jewel for the safe return of his grandson? Did he believe that Thingol would give in? Thingol had to give in, after all they were family. Almárean silently pleaded that his grandfather would hurry to do something, or anything.

With a slight movement the figure pressed his blade just enough so that Almárean could feel a small trickle run down his throat. He squeezed his eyes so tight that tears ran down.

"Do with him what you will. He is no kin of mine."

When Almárean heard his grandfather spoke tears of sorrow streamed down his cheeks.

"So be it."

He heard the heavy foot steps turn around and out of the hall they were in. It was just the elf and Almárean. The elf was in no way in a hurry to release his blade as he held it to Almárean neck, with blood slowly leaking out.


	4. Almarean II

Almárean 2

* * *

"Fool" Almárean could hear the smirk in the elf's voice. "Now that he is out of the way…" The blade on Almárean's throat was lifted, for a single moment he caught his breath, before having the air knocked out of him once more.

When he opened his eyes, spots filled his vision, his head pulsed, and his heart raced widely. He felt his back press against the hard cold floor. Before his vision fully cleared, Almárean felt a painful tug at his arm.

The grip was constricting. Almárean was too terrified to yell in pain, so instead he bit down hard on his lower lip.

The elf forced Almárean to his feet, keeping his tight grip around Almáreans thin arm.

"Now boy, hand over the silmaril, I know you have it. Give it to me, and I will spare your life."

Almárean felt his body shake like a leaf. His legs were weak, he thought he would fall if it were not for the elf holding him by the arm. He tried to speak, but his words were trapped inside his sore throat.

"Give it to me!" The elf gave a firm shake on Almáreans arm. Almárean could feel his head snap back and small popping sound from his arm.

"If you don't give it to me, then I will take it off your corpse." Almáreans eyes widen as the elf brought the point of his sword to his throat.

Almárean attempted to pull away from the blade. His arm gave a painful tug of resistance reminding him that he was still being held. Almárean leaned away from the elf as much his arm could allow. He twisted his head the other direction and managed to release a whine of fear from his throat.

The cold wet tip of the blade was placed under his chin. Almárean froze, as his chin was slowly lifted higher.

"This is your last warning" The elf quietly seethed.

"Stop!" Almárean his eyes turned to see another elf. His voice rang loud and commanding through the halls. He wore the same pointed star armor as he calmly approached. "Curvo, what are you doing?" He was tall, taller than the elf in front of him now, his hair was fair and braided neatly out of his face. Unlike the other elf, whose hair had wild strands escaping from the braids.

"Finishing what our father started," the other elf, Curvo, retorted.

The new elf shook his head. "By harming children. Think about what you are doing." His voice was soft as he tried to reason with the other elf.

"I am thinking, it seems I'm the only one who is thinking. Everyone is satisfied to wait." Curvo flicked the blade in his hand slightly to Almáreans chin. "But I will wait no longer."

"He's just a child," the new elf interjected and pushed Curvo's sword arm away from Almárean. "Curvo please, you will regret this."

"You," Curvo brought the tip of the sword and pointed at the new elf.

The new elf didn't flinch with the weapon a few inches from him.

"You have gone soft. Years before you would have stood with me, I no longer know who you are."

"I could say the same about you." The new elf took a step toward Curvo.

"Our years in Nargothrond has harden your heart. Now please brother, stop this madness." Almárean could hear the sorrow in his voice. The two brothers stood in silence before Curvo spoke again.

"The silmaril will always come first." This time his voice lacked the harsh tone when he spoke to Almárean before, but his voice was still cold as ice. "You only need to give it to me boy, and I will let you live."

Almárean refused to move or say anything. He was outmatched; he knew the silmaril was important. He remembered the day his mother showed it to him. He made a promise to her that he wouldn't tell anyone about the silmaril.

He didn't want to give it up, after all, it is the one thing that he had of his father, a father he still knew nothing about. As far as he knows, his father was far from Doriath, fighting the evils of the world, at least that was his mother told him. He didn't know if his father was even alive, but he didn't want to give this jewel away. He felt torn, if he gave the silmaril away, then the brothers will leave and the people of Doriath will be safe. On the other hand, Almárean will be giving away his parents most treasured possession.

Then again, the more Almárean thought about it, his mother would rather have him than the silmaril.

Solemnly Almárean nodded. There was a breath of relief as some of the tension dissolved in the air as Curvo lowered his weapon, and placed it back in the sheath. The other elf, still stood his ground and looked between Almárean and Curvo.

Curvo's brother cautiously walked toward Almárean, kneeling down beside him.

For the first time Almárean lifted his gaze and stared at the tall elf. This elf he knew had to be royalty. Unlike his brother, his armor was clean, his eyes shined with a unique brightness that reminded him of his grandmother. Almárean could see in his eyes showed unconditional kindness and patience. He gave him a small smile, and for the first Almárean felt his confidence blossom as he felt his own mouth start to curve in a smile as well.

"Please give my brother the silmaril" Almárean's courage started to dissolve the moment the elf spoke. He was willing to give the silmaril to the kinder elf, but Curvo was a completely different matter. Almárean felt a comforting squeeze on his shoulder. He looked at the new elf again, there was something in his eyes, that made Almárean feel safe. He also felt that the elf had a plan. He didn't know him, but Almárean was going to trust him.

Almárean nodded and reached inside his vest and pulled out a red cloth. Immediately he felt all eyes lay on the red cloth, as if they both knew what was under it despite not seeing the silmaril. At the corner on his eyes, Almárean could see the elf's other hand as it slowly reached for the cloth. Before his hand was too close he pulled it back.

Almárean looked forward at Curvo. Curvo's eyes were wide and his chest heaved up and down at an unusual rate.

"You must present the silmaril to my brother." The new elf spoke again in a low soft voice.

Almárean was feeling his nerves take over. He stilled his shaking, and with a shuddering breath, carefully unfolded the cloth. Piece by piece the bright light of the silmaril shone through until it was finally unwrapped. Almárean let the brilliance of the silmaril shine for a moment before passing it over. All three pairs of eyes marveled at its beauty.

Almárean briefly looked up from the jewel and saw Curvo. Although his eyes were once filled with disdain, they were now glossed over and moist. Almárean could see past the hateful glare, in his eyes, he saw hurt and betrayal. Whatever happened for him to hate was not completely his fault. Something or someone caused him to resort to violence. Almárean felt pity for Curvo.

A squeeze of his shoulder reminded Almárean what he must do, despite being scared of Curvo. He took comfort in the elf beside him and took a few steps toward Curvo just as the elf beside him stood up and walked toward his brother as well.

"Give it to me." Curvo snapped. His hand was all of his fingers were stretched to receive the small jewel. Almárean jumped at his voice and quickly placed the silmaril in his hands. Curvo released a high pitch laugh as he stared at the jewel, and then at his brother, who stood by emotionless. He lifted the jewel in the air, admiring the silmaril from a far.

While Curvo was distracted, Almárean took this time to assess his injuries. He placed his hand over his throat where the blade was before. There was a definite line where he was cut, Almárean could also feel the his throat was sticky. He pulled his fingers away and saw his fingers were smeared with red. He remembered before meeting with his grandfather, that his left hand was the one covered in the same red consistency. So he knew that this was his blood on his right hand. His left arm pulsed where Curvo gripped it, he was sure there was bruise once he had a chance to look at it.

Before Almárean could ponder more on his injuries, an animalistic howl, turned his gaze to Curvo.

His face once full of bliss was now covered in agony. One of his hands was clenched tight while the other hand gripped his wrist. Almárean realized that Curvo was still holding on to the silmaril. Curvos staggered, screamed, and swung himself from side to side as he looked for anyone or anything to relieve his pain. He looked at his unfazed brother for assistance. Almárean couldn't understand why he didn't just drop the silmaril if it was causing him pain. Tears trailed down his face as he staggered to his brother.

"Brother," he whined. The new elf stood tall and strong he didn't take a step toward his brother despite his pitiful cries. "Please,"Curvo whispered. His knees visibly shook as his brother walked behind him.

"Don't worry Curvo, everything is going to be fine." His voice was smooth as he steadied Curvo before bringing up his arm to strike his head.

Almárean jumped when he heard the strike and took a few steps away from the pair. Curvo collapsed, tears still streaming out of his closed eyes, while his hand still held a death drip on the silmaril.  
"I'm sorry brother" There was no satisfaction to the elf that harmed his brother. Instead Almárean could see that the elf was just as hurt. His eyes dropped and his shoulders slumped as he stared at his fallen brother.

Almárean shivered staring at the one whom just moments before held a knife to his throat. Finally it seemed the nightmare was over.

"Child, come here," the elf called as he knelt near his brother. His voice was soft and his eyes were even softer. Almárean slowly approached staring curiously at the elf.

"I need you to grab the silmaril," Almárean felt his eyes widen as the elf picked up his brothers hand. It was an unusual dark color.

The elf gently unfolded each stiff figure to reveal the bright light of the silmaril.

"Take it," The elf instructed.

Almárean shook his head vigorously and held his hands behind him, fearing the same fate would befall him. To his surprise a joyful rumble rolled out of the older elf.

"Do not fear, little one. The silmaril does not harm those who are innocent."

Looking into his mysterious grey eyes Almárean was once again reassured by the elf and took a step forward. He slowly reached his hand out. Just as he was inches away he hesitated and looked back up at the elf bedside him.

His smile was warm and comforting. Almárean gave him his own tentative smile before bringing a single finger to the jewel. He lingered there waiting to sense any change of temperature. When he didn't sense the change he carefully grasped the silmaril and pulled it away from Curvo's dark burnt hand.

Almárean brought the jewel at eye level. It was cool against his hand and a bright soft light shined on his face. Despite what Curvo said about being the proper owner of the jewel, he was glad that the silmaril was back in his possession.

Almárean pulled the silmaril away from his face as he stared at the elf before him. He somehow got a hold of the red cloth that was used to wrap the silmaril in. He took his other hand caressing the smooth cloth. He then brought the cloth close to his nose, as he inhaled deeply with his eyes closed. He let the cloth linger there as if he was caught up in a memory.

"My lord," the elf pulled the cloth away and turned to the right to see half a score of elves emerges around the all.

The new elf stood, and greeted his soldiers before giving them instructions.

"Take my brother to the healers, see if they can do anything for his hand."

"Yes my lord," a few soldiers said in unison as they picked up the unconscious Curvo and carried him away.

"We must split into groups. There are many halls, we must regroup with Lords Nelyafinwë and Kanafinwë. Also if you run into any of Lord Curufinwe's soilders, tell them that their lord has been defeated, and if they surrender promptly they will receive a light punishment. If they do not comply, they will be given the most sever punishment for treason."

"Yes My lord," after speaking the rest of the elves started to divide themselves into two groups.

"My lord if I may," One soldier approached. Unlike the rest of the elves this elf, had a distinctive star on his shoulder that the rest did not have.

"What about the child, he looks as if he needs medical attention." Almárean froze as he felt the two elves eyes roaming over him.

"Ah his neck," the kind elf said knelt down again to get a good look.

Almárean's neck still felt sore, but he could tell that the bleeding had slowed when he pulled his hand away and saw less blood on his fingers.

"Very well take him as well."

"No!" Almárean protested then regretted his outburst as his throat felt like someone was carving on it. It was a terrible sharp pain that made him cough for a bit before closing his lips tight.

"Take it easy we are here to help you." The elf placed a comforting hand on his small shoulders. Almárean couldn't say anymore as he brought his hand to his throat and started shaking his head. Almárean didn't want to leave his mother or Nimloth. There was Thranduil too. Leaving would make it difficult to reunite with them, and he didn't want to leave at a time like this.

"We'll bring you back after you have recovered. I promise."

His words sounded sincere but Almárean couldn't trust them even though so far everything the elf instructed him to do turned out ok.

Suddenly the elf brought his fingers to his mouth and blew. It was a long high pitched musical whistle. There was a pause until Almárean heard something coming their way. Almárean could hear the thumping as whatever the elf called approached.

Coming from around the corner, Almárean eyes widen. It was the biggest dog he ever seen. Tall grey and possibly the size of a horse His ears were pointed and his snout long. He looked like a giant wolf. The dog wagged his tail and let out a happy whine.

"Good to see you too Huan." The elf smiled and petted his head. "I need your help" The elf spoke to the dog and then turned to Almárean. "Don't be afraid. This is my companion, and he will make sure you are kept safe." Almárean took a step back as the dog approached. He could see his nose twitching as he tried to smell Almárean.

"Don't worry he won't harm you." Almárean shielded his face in hopes of the dog leaving him alone. It didn't work as he felt his hands come into contact with something cold and wet.

Almárean parted his hands slightly just enough to see the dogs nose. His body froze as the dog continued to smell over him, even ruffling his hair. His breath tickled his cheeks when Almárean finally placed his hands down. The dog whined again and waged his tail even faster than what he had when he greeted the elf. The dog started to look at the elf and back to Almárean again, as he let out small barks.

"Easy boy," The elf gently rubbed the dogs head. "See he's friendly." The elf turned to Almárean and spoke. "Do you trust us now?"

Almárean looked toward the dog and then the rest of the soldiers. So far they haven't done anything that would make Almárean question their motives. Besides they had a dog and there was something about the great dog that made Almárean think he was wiser than he looked. Something started to stir inside him. He felt his insides warm with confidence. He nodded to the elf.

"Excellent, why don't you ride on Huan, he'll make sure to keep you safe in case you run into any trouble. The elf gave Almárean a boost as he lifted him on to the dogs back.

Once on the dog, Almárean fingered the hair. It was soft, so soft that Almárean wanted to lay down on Huan's back and sleep, but he stayed upright. He wanted to alert so he can find his way back home if needed.

"Cundowë, I'm trusting you to make sure the boy gets to camp safely." The elf that approached them, that must be Cundowë dropped his jaw slightly before snapping to attention.

"It would be an honor, my lord" Cundowë saluted the elf. The elf nodded in return and turned back to Almárean.

"Take care," The elf said his farewell. He smiled at him before placing the red cloth back in Almárean's hand and he turned back to his remaining soldiers.

"Let's go," Cundowë said as they started walking at a brisk pace toward the end of the hall to exit the palace. Almárean looked back as the rest of the solders huddled around the elf. They were together for a moment before splitting up. Almárean didn't like the idea of leaving He felt like he was running away again like he did with Nimloth. In the end it was to keep him safe but still, he hoped that everyone was going to be alright. It was all up to the new elf to stop this maddness.


End file.
